by D N Meinster
"We should go," Aros whispered to his friends, hoping they could hear him since he was still a few steps behind.
Doren and Rikki ignored him. They followed their prey until he came to a stop.
The interloper knelt down before a life-size statue of a man that had been erected at the center of town. It was not unlike the statues in the Emperor's palace, except this one was made out of Ligold.
Aros caught up to his friends, standing at their side as he tried to decipher the name printed on the statue's base. But it was written in Faun, so there was no way he'd figure it out himself.
"Do you know who that is?" Aros asked, turning to his friends and noticing the look of horror displayed on each of their faces.
Aros didn't understand. He took a second glance at the sculpture, and though there was a vague familiarity, he couldn't place who it was.
"Former emperor?" Aros asked again.
Rikki glared at Aros before answering. "That's Neanthal."
Aros' eyes bulged, and he took a few steps back. There was a shrine to the Beast in the middle of town. This was a Thalian settlement!
Aros searched in every direction, as if expecting an army to attack them upon the revelation. But the entire town remained still.
"Let's go," Aros insisted again.
But Rikki refused to listen. She approached the man they had been following as he continued bowing before the Neanthal effigy. When he failed to recognize her, she shoved her staff in his face. "I have questions for you."
But the interloper kept bowing, unaffected by her obvious threat.
"Maybe I can help," someone said from the other side of the statue.
Stepping into view was a middle-aged man in a brown and orange getup and Neanthal's symbol tattooed on his cheek. Aros prepared to strike, but his friends verbally engaged the man.
"Who is he?" Rikki asked, pointing at the interloper.
"His name is Jient. And mine is Vezeo. Welcome to Neanthal's Hamlet. By your tongue, I would guess you are Kytheran. Am I right?"
"You're a Thalian!" Aros barked.
Vezeo stroked his unshaved face. "We're all Thalians here."
Aros gradually twirled and saw that they were surrounded. The Thalians had snuck up on them.
Doren had his shield in his hand before Aros had made a full rotation.
"Don't be alarmed," Vezeo said. "This is a safe place. It is the only location in all of Faunli where a Thalian can practice. Inside this town's borders, we are free."
"Well Jient here was well outside your borders when he snuck up on us last night," Rikki stated.
"I truly apologize," Vezeo replied. "He is not of sound mind."
What were they doing, talking with this Thalian? They should be fighting them. Aros tightened his grip on his blades. Was he going to have to make the first move?
"I'll return him to his quarters," another Thalian said. This one's face was covered in tattoos of pyramids colliding with broken hearts.
Aros shuffled into his path. "We followed him all night. He's going to answer our questions before you take him away."
"We will do our best to help you," Vezeo responded. "But Jient should not be out."
"He already is," Aros grumbled.
"Aros," Doren said, urging for hesitation by calling his name.
Aros raised his blades up higher.
"Please, we do not – " Vezeo began.
The other Thalian took a step closer to Aros, and Aros swung his blade out, tearing at the sleeve of the man's bland attire.
Three Thalians dove at Aros, their knives and daggers aimed at puncturing his skin. Aros crossed his clawblades and held them up toward his foes, their piercing weapons colliding with his Ligold swords.
They were evidently perplexed by his ability to halt all three at once, and while their weapons remained locked on his blades, Aros shoved them all back, toppling each of them to the ground.
"Stop!" Rikki begged, but Aros wasn't listening. He had been waiting for this.
Another Thalian came up to him, this one wielding a full-length sword, though it was almost completely rusted over. With a single blow, Aros' blade cut straight through it, the fragments of the ancient weapon falling to the earth. Aros stabbed the Thalian's shoulder, and he retreated from the fight.
The Thalians ignored Rikki and Doren, who refused to engage them, and focused their antipathy on Aros. These were not skilled warriors he was facing; their shabby robes and unimposing weapons evidence of their impoverishment. But they worshipped Neanthal, and that was enough for Aros.
Five Thalians attacked him now, a variety of uneven spears and knives plunging at him. With one blade, Aros caught every spear before it could land, and with the other, he deflected the knives. He pushed out with his elbows, slamming them into the faces of two Thalians. And with ease, he lopped the arm off one of his opponents and took the ear of another.
These wounds gave the other Thalians pause. None of them were rushing to challenge him now.
Aros grunted a few times before shouting, "Come on!"
He charged at a nearby Thalian who was brandishing an axe. Before the Thalian could even finish his swing, Aros had decapitated the axe and slashed at his chest. As this Thalian dropped back, another started shooting arrows at Aros.
The clawblades easily sliced through the arrows before they could hit their target. Aros aimed his blade and prepared to lob it at the archer. But before he could let it loose, a bronze shield knocked it out of his hands.
"That's enough!" Doren yelled, moving in front of Aros.
Aros swiftly retrieved the blade. "Get out of my way, Doren."
"These aren't soldiers. They're normal people. They merely have a strange religion."
"Strange religion?" Aros was fuming inside. "They worship Neanthal! They deserve this."
"Leidess was descended from Neanthal's servants," Doren reminded his friend. "Did she deserve what happened?"
Aros stared straight into Doren's eyes. That was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it.
"Sor – "
Both of the clawblades crashed into Doren's shield.
Doren pushed back on Aros' blades. "This – "
Aros' whacked into the bronze shield over and over. With each clang, his swings became more rapid and more vicious. He wanted to break the shield like he had broken the Thalians' weapons. Only when it was in pieces would he cease his attack.
Doren let Aros pound away on his shield until it became clear he wasn't going to stop. He swept the shield out from under Aros' blows and spun about, swinging it into Aros' side.
Aros ignored the pain and went after the shield. This time, Doren wasn't letting him hit it. He avoided each attempted hit, and retaliated by smacking Aros in a vulnerable area.
Doren got him in the shoulder; got him in the knee; got him on the back. Aros' swings became wilder after each pang.
Aros almost nicked his pale green garb, but Doren batted away the clawblades just in time.
It was then that Doren made a bid to relieve Aros of his swords. Doren thrust his shield in one of the clawblades, hoping the force would drive it from Aros' grip.
But Aros held onto both blades, assailing with the one that Doren wasn't going after.
As Doren failed to knock the weapons from Aros' hands, he changed tactics, aiming his shield at Aros' head.
Aros blocked one shot with both his blades, but was propelled back into one of the feeble wooden structures.
The Thalians scrambled from the vicinity. Only Rikki was brave enough to approach. "Enough!" she screamed, but Aros wasn't having it.
His clawblades were jabbing at her now, as she stepped between him and Doren.
Rikki let her staff absorb the attacks. While it vibrated in her hands, Aros charged at her.
Doren came to her rescue, rushing at Aros and knocking him off his intended path.
Rikki could have ended it right there, but she knew Aros needed this, so she let the battle continue.
Aros regrouped, pointed a blade at each of his friends, and resumed his assault. Both Rikki and Doren played defense, letting their own weapons take the brunt of each hit. When they saw an opening, they nailed Aros, hoping the injury would stop him for good. But no amount of pain could quell his wrath.
The bloodlust Aros had felt since crossing into Faunli was compelling him to continue. Every time his blade lunged at his companions, he hoped it would be enough. But then he felt the impulse to swing again, and he did not disobey.
The shield and the staff held up well against the clawblades. They were not going to break as Aros had wished.
With one attack, Aros made the mistake of going after Rikki with both swords. This gave Doren the chance to knock Aros in the side of the head.
Aros wobbled on his feet for a moment, before he let out a venomous shriek and tried to stab both his friends. They easily deflected his attack.
Rikki looked into Aros' eyes, and for the first time noticed his exhaustion. When he tried to assail them again, she whirled her staff beneath his legs and sent him tumbling to the ground.
Aros glowered at Rikki, her staff just inches from his face.
"Are you done?" she asked him.
Aros opened his hands and let the clawblades roll out. Tears welled up in his eyes as he comprehended what had just occurred.
An arrow soared past Rikki's cheek, going for her friend. It burst into dust before it had a chance to hit its target.
She twisted around, searching for the culprit. "Bad timing," she snarled, and the archer's bow burst into flames.
Vezeo reluctantly trudged to their side. He showed his hands to them, so they could see he was unarmed. "You may go in peace, but do not return."
The Thalians abandoned the shrine, returning to their poorly kept homes. The wounded they took to be treated. The broken weapons they left, for they could not be mended. Jient disappeared with them, making their night-long trek meaningless.
Rikki and Doren each took one of Aros' arms and they lifted him back on his feet. The clawblades floated back onto their magnets, and Doren returned his shield to his back.
"I'm sorry," Aros told his friends, the tears still flowing.
Rikki did not say anything. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and kept him in her embrace.
Doren stood by, watching, until he decided to join Rikki.
Aros was stuck between his two friends, puzzled as to why they would hug him after he had unloaded all his rage onto them. Why did they not care? He had almost seriously injured them, if not worse.
He had not earned this affection. They should shun him; send him back to Kytheras. He was not fit for this journey.
Yet here they were, their arms locked around his body; their warmth blocking out the frigid air of Neanthal's Hamlet. For the first time since he lost Leidess, Aros thought everything just might be okay.
Chapter Six
The Dark Incursion
Year One of the Dark Reign (1 D.R.)
His teeth sliced through the skin of the being sloshing around his mouth. The outer layer of this creature was weak and easily punctured. The inside, however, was tough and dense, and required effort to crush. It was like they were designed wrong, as their armor was within their bodies instead of on the outside.
Neanthal swallowed the lowly being and searched for his next victim. Many were still staring up at him, flabbergasted by his form. True, it was not every day they could behold a god, but now that they had an idea what was coming, they should've been fleeing. He had no mercy to provide these miniature heathens. He only had questions.
Still, if he had been designed wrong, he could understand why one might ogle at an entity that had been born right. His eyes were as fire, flickering and consuming everything in sight while also perceiving that which was beyond his view. His snout was unmatched, wide enough to take in every scent and long enough to fit a host of humans in the mouth that rested just beneath. His body was more than a mountain, and his tail an endless cloud. He was perfection. Only one other in the entire universe could say that.
Neanthal raised his front claw. It was not unlike a human hand, though its nails were sharper and its five fingers were thicker. It was also pitch black, and wispy, exactly like the rest of him.
Setting his sights on one of the onlookers, Neanthal swung his claw down, intending to squash it. But his paw passed right through the human, who remained unharmed despite the motion.
A venomous howl escaped Neanthal's throat, and the remaining spectators sped away from the point of his incursion.
Neanthal gazed at his claw. It appeared more transparent than the rest of him. This physical world was trickier than the other. He had never had to concentrate so hard to hold himself together.
He hated this place already. The Pit was a more welcoming province. And that was an empty prison meant only for him. He wasn't going back there, no matter how awful this world was. There was too much work to do here.
Neanthal chased after the humans he was rapidly growing to despise. He felt lighter than air, despite his massive size, and he caught up with the runaways with a mere two strides. This time, he wasn't going to miss.
He brought his claw up, and then slammed it down upon one of the sprinting humans. He grinned as he saw the creature disappear beneath his appendage. It was not so hard to crush one as long as he remained whole.
Raising his paw, he took note of the remains of this creature. Red ooze was leaking from its body parts, some no longer attached to the main torso. The white bone was visible in spots, sticking through the soft outer layer. These humans went down easily. He would accomplish his mission here in no time.
Neanthal went after a few more of them, making sure that his last attempt was no fluke. With each stomp, he crushed a human, leaving an imprint of his claw around their lifeless body. Each step he took led to one more soul departing for the Bastion. How many would it take for Her to realize who was causing it? Perhaps She already knew.
The humans tried to take refuge amongst the trees, hoping their mighty limbs might protect them from his own. It was a clever gambit, but ultimately futile. There was no place that was out of his reach. How best to show that to them? He could tear out the trees, or make them disappear entirely. He could set them aflame, or crush them along with the critters in their midst. No, he knew what he was going to do.
The end of his tail hopped up from its position amongst the far-off ridges and dove back toward his frame. Though it appeared as a narrow black cloud, it was much faster than those floating through the sky. Neanthal guided it past its foundation, en route to the woodland just beyond his snout. It slithered amongst the tree trunks, leaving no hint of its presence amidst the bark or the dirt. The leaves beneath it did not rustle as it crept near its prey. The humans thought they were safe, until their chests were punctured by the thick, black snake.
Screams enveloped the air as Neanthal's tail shot from one victim to the next, ripping holes in their bodies with a speedy efficiency that no mortal weapon yet possessed. When the last of them was silenced, he withdrew his tail, a lineup of humans left hanging from it as trophies.
His power was truly great. But then, these people were unarmed. He had yet to face a direct assault. This land did not offer what he sought.
Neanthal stood on his hind legs and reached for the atmosphere. He sniffed for the blood of men, caused not by him but by those killing each other. His eyes turned to the south. He knew where he must go.
Dropping all his legs back to the earth, he altered course and made to leave Terrastream. He had learned all he could from these peace-loving playthings. Magenine had populated this realm with weaklings and cowards. Would She be disappointed with them when they reached Her? Probably not. That wasn't Her way, though it should have been.
The countryside was but a blur as Neanthal made his way to his next destination. The hills and forests were no obstacles, as they passed through him. The waters were no different than solid ground. And he ignore
d the Streamers, as they were called, for he had already gotten what he needed from them.
When Neanthal spotted a single house on the horizon, he knew he had reached Faunli. A humble shack stood alone on the border, but it was surrounded by legions of men. They were each dressed in fine metal garments, all polished and reflective in the sunlight. Even their faces were covered by this material, which made it a wonder how they could see the wooden hovel before them. Apparently, that was all they could see. They failed to notice the massive storm approaching that would lead to their imminent deaths. Still, they were wiser than the Streamers, for at least they wore armor over their frail exterior.
Neanthal studied them from a distance, yet he did not move in to strike. What had the human huddled inside the cabin done to incur the wrath of this army? His omniscience in these situations was limited. Magenine had him beat there.
The armed men were speaking, in a tongue Neanthal had never heard before. Yet when their voices reached him, he could understand every word they were saying.
"You have until sundown to surrender yourself. The Emperor prefers we take you back to him alive."
Emperor? Neanthal searched beyond this limited situation to get a better grasp of the realm he was about to infiltrate. Flashes before his eyes revealed to him the state of affairs in Faunli. They all listened to an emperor that sat on the throne of Faunli. Symbols of birds burned away and were replaced by an odd T-shaped tree with many branches. There was much resentment for this symbol. Because the Emperor did not actually rule Faunli.
Fascinating. He could use the state of affairs to his benefit. Magenine's world was just a few moves away from collapse.
Still, was any of this related to why the Emperor wanted the man inside the shack? They were no longer speaking, and their minds were beyond his reach. She had a hold on them, no doubt.
The best way to find out was to kill the armed men outside and speak to the coward within. And he had come here to do precisely that.